Disclosure
by J. Metropolis
Summary: *A companion piece to Inked* When Eugene searches for more information about the accident that claimed his parents, he stumbles upon Rapunzel's past and it leads to the discovery of her true identity. (Modern AU)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

He was still half asleep when he realized she wasn't pressed up against him like she should have been. By now, he was used to having her warm body filling in the gaps his created as he slept on his side with the soft strands of her short locks tucked under the scruff of his goatee. He extended a tattoo sleeved arm across the mattress and blindly felt around for her in what was _supposed_ to be her side of the bed. It never turned out that way. They always started out in the middle when they went to bed, but always ended up on his side instead.

He cracked open his bleary, tired eyes when he didn't feel her small, familiar frame.

"Rapunzel?" he mumbled, he voice thick with sleep. When he didn't hear a response, he figured she'd gotten up to use the bathroom or to get a drink of water. He was about to fall back into another dream when he heard the sound of violent retching.

He responded immediately. He was fully awake, out of bed, and standing outside the closed door of their ensuite bathroom in a matter of seconds. She had a way of making him snap to attention like nothing else could.

"Rapunzel? Are you alright?" He asked as he knocked on the door.

"I'm fine. Don't come in here Eugene." She muffled a sob.

He rolled his eyes as he turned the door knob. "_Please_," he scoffed, "like I haven't had front row seats to that show before. Remember the night we met?" He asked her as he turned on the faucet, running a clean washcloth under it and wringing out the excess water.

The night they had met had certainly been a memorable one. She had stumbled into his tattoo parlor drunk and he had mistaken her for another one of his groupies. He learned that night that she couldn't hold her liquor. He had learned that lesson the hard way, when he brought her to his apartment to sober up and she proceeded to spew all over him and his couch. That night had ended with both of them in his shower stall taking a fully clothed shower.

It had been five years since that incident and she still had a tendency to empty the contents of her stomach when she had one too many. He thought back to what she had to drink last night. He'd ordered her a glass of Chardonnay with dinner, but he had drunk most of it when she lost interest after a few sips.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the bathroom sink. _Yeesh_. He looked like hell. His eyes were watery and bloodshot; there was stubble on his face apart from his goatee which he kept neatly trimmed and "bed head" didn't begin the cover the look he was sporting on top of his head. His normally stupendous thick, chestnut hair was sticking up in all sorts of weird angles, and although Rapunzel often referred to his morning hairdo as "cute," it provided him with no reassurances. She referred to a lot of things as cute, the motley crew of surly men who lived in the pub next door came to the forefront of his mind.

About the only thing that looked good on him right now were the tatts on his bare chest and arms that stared back at him in the mirror. They always looked good no matter what condition the other parts of him were in.

He took a deep breath through his nose. He didn't smell bad exactly, but he didn't smell clean either. He smelled like a heady concoction of himself and her and last night's activities. His appearance was that of a man who'd had less than two hours of sleep and while he wasn't complaining that they had stayed up so late last night, he certainly hadn't expected to be up this early the next morning.

He handed the damp washcloth to her as he sat down on the cold tile floor beside her; she was still hugging the rim of the toilet. She didn't look much better than he did. He noticed faint dark circles under her eyes and felt a pang of guilt wondering how long she had been in here by herself before he had woken up and noticed. Her eyes were rimmed red, a color that now matched the tip of her nose and her swollen lips. It was a look he'd seen in her before.

He noted that she'd found her lavender negligee; it's thin straps clinging to her slender shoulders. He, on the other hand, was more comfortable sleeping in his own skin. The frilly, gossamer scrap of fabric with lacy black trim he had so gleefully pulled off of her several hours ago seemed strangely dressy and out of place for the unhappy occasion of hugging porcelain.

Pascal, ever the dutiful companion, was by her side looking mossy, like he was experiencing sympathy symptoms. He wasn't sure when the frog had snuck his way back into their bedroom, but he knew he hadn't been in there when they went to bed last night. Pascal had been a present from Eugene to Rapunzel on her 21st birthday. The chameleon had learned several tricks in the years since, but Eugene's favorite would always be when the frog turned red and scampered away when things between them got heated.

"Are you alright?" He asked again as their eyes met and he tucked a loose chocolate lock behind her ear, not bothering to mask the concern in his voice. He'd been laid bare to her too many times to hide things like that from her anymore.

"It was the fish. . . .," she explained with absolute certainty as she pressed the washcloth against her lips trying to suppress another heave and not quite managing it. He held her short hair back as she expelled what was left inside her into the porcelain bowl and flushed the toilet for her when she was done.

The first time he had taken her to Tony's had been on her 21st birthday. It was definitely the busiest and arguably one of the best restaurants on the island and boasted a rare, five star rating from the local restaurant guide. They had become regulars there and had never gotten so much as an upset stomach from the gastronomical delights that were served there nightly. Tony, the owner, was the kind of finicky, overly sensitive chef who would shriek and threaten a lawsuit for slander if he heard anyone disparaging his food. It wasn't exactly the stuff of food code violations.

Eugene shook his head. "No. That can't be it. I ate the rest of your fish last night and I feel fine," he recalled, furrowing his thick eyebrows. Rapunzel was no match for the large portions they served at Tony's and he always finished whatever she didn't eat.

". . . . Rapunzel . . . . I don't think it's the fish. . . ." He knew it wasn't the wine either. She had barely touched her glass. They stared at each other dumbly for a moment before the implication settled in and he bolted out of the bathroom grabbing the dress pants and Tattersall shirt he'd worn the night before off the bedroom floor. He didn't care that he would look like someone on the walk of shame dressed like that this early in the morning. If his clothes didn't give off that impression, his rumpled hair and unshaven face certainly would.

###

He passed through the automatic double glass doors of the drugstore looking like the walking dead from one of the zombie movies he loved so much. By now he was a regular patron here. He even had one of those frequent customer cards you were supposed to clip on to your keychain. Of course, he never did and as a consequence he always forgot his. By now, he had memorized the layout of the store and made a beeline to the aisle he was looking for. The place was a ghost town this early in the morning and he had no trouble finding what he was looking for.

The pharmacist knew him well. She knew him as the overly-worried boyfriend, before he became the overly-worried fiancé and now he was the overly-worried husband. She had a feeling he was going to earn a new title soon as he walked up to the cash register at the pharmacy counter carrying an armful of rectangular, shrink wrapped packages with smiling, happy cherubs on them.

"You only need one box, Mr. Fitzherbert. It's 99 percent accurate," she assured him as she pointed to the label on one of the boxes and gave him a motherly smile. They had done this song and dance many times over the years. Whether it was a cold, a sunburn, an earache, an insect bite, hives or the time Rapunzel petted a skunk she mistook for a stray cat on the sidewalk, his reaction, or rather overreaction, was always the same: buy as much as he could carry of whatever it was she needed.

"Oh and Mr. Fitzherbert, good luck," she called out to him as he left the drugstore.

###

When he got back from the store, he found her in much the same position he had left her, looking dazed with an elbow propped up on the toilet seat. He rested the bottle of club soda he had brought back for her upset stomach on the bathroom counter and helped her up off the floor. He must've read the instructions six times, neither one of them had done this before. Minutes later, he took the white plastic stick from her shaky hand and placed the cap on it. He felt unsteady on his feet so he sat down on the tile, his tattooed forearms resting on his bended knees. He set his wristwatch and waited.

She slid down beside him coiling a hand around his arm and resting her head on his bicep. The room was silent as they both stared at the foretelling oracle he tightly gripped between his left thumb and index finger. The object felt strange and foreign in his hand.

As the minutes passed ever so slowly, he tried to calm himself down; he tried not to freak out. He knew this was a possibility, especially now that they had been married a couple of years; they had become lax and didn't always take precautions. The little white pill she was supposed to take every night was not free of side effects and she sometimes skipped them to avoid the unpleasant symptoms. For his part, he wasn't always diligent about using a backup method, preferring to have no barriers between them. Still, up until now they hadn't had so much as a scare and it had lulled both of them into a false sense of security.

He knew it would happen someday. He _wanted_ it to happen someday. It's just that he hadn't expected that someday to be today. They had talked about this. They had planned it out. They had a timeline. There was even a spreadsheet. This was something that was supposed to happen somewhere down the line, like buying a house and getting a dog.

If she said something to him, he didn't hear it. All he heard was the beeping sounds from the alarm on his wristwatch.

He might as well call the realtor now because there were two bright pink lines staring him in this face. A new chapter in their lives was about to begin.

* * *

**AN1: **This story is a companion piece to **Inked**. It's in response to a review from **fictionadict24**, who wanted more backstory on Rapunzel. If you haven't read **Inked**, you can find it in the M section or in my profile. If you don't want to read all 12 chapters, just read the epilogue and you'll have a fairly good idea of what's going on.

**AN2: **This story won't be as long as the AU it was based on. I'm thinking 4 or 5 chapters, but I haven't mapped it out yet, so I don't know for sure. Please read, review, fave and follow the story. I'd love to hear what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She moved a hand over her middle and smiled down at the flat plane of her stomach in a gesture that would've been endearing if he weren't scared out of his mind at the moment.

She looked up at him before he'd had time to wipe that look of horror off his face and she frowned. Her gaze dropped to the four positive testing sticks that now lay on the floor between them.

Pascal glared at him, but it was unnecessary. He already felt like a complete jackass. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she seemed happy about the situation. Well, at least she _had_ seemed happy about her condition until she looked at his stupid face and he took that away from her. He groaned in frustration. He needed to get a grip. He needed to get it together and quick. He wasn't going to ruin this for her.

Her initial response had been the right one. This wasn't some somber occasion. Nobody had died. In fact, just the opposite. They were going to have . . . they were going to have a, a -.

He couldn't finish the thought before he felt the cold chill of panic starting to creep up his spine again. He began to run his fingers through the hair on the back of his head like he did when he was _really, really_ freaked out. It was a coping mechanism he had resorted to back when he was a kid and now he did it without conscious thought when things got too stressful, when things felt like they were spiraling out of his control. It was an action that wouldn't be lost to his wife's extremely perceptive emerald green eyes.

"Are you . . . _disappointed_?" She asked in a small voice.

"No. Just scared, I guess," he answered truthfully.

"Me too." she admitted with a sigh as she leaned back against the wainscoting that partially covered the wall of the bathroom. "I don't know the first thing about babies."

"_I_ do." He muttered.

Her eyes widened in surprise, like he'd just announced that he knew all about splitting the atom.

"_What_?" He snapped defensively, "I grew up in an orphanage, remember? It was short staffed on a good day and I was one of the older kids; which meant I had to help out more and that sometimes meant diaper duty." He scrunched his nose up at the memory as he crossed his arms. It had been his least favorite chore. He had learned early on that babies were messy and noisy and especially smelly. But this wouldn't be just any baby. This would be _their_ baby, a part of her and of him; and even though he or she would be messy and noisy and sometimes smelly, this would be _their_ messy and noisy and sometimes smelly baby. Something about that sounded _very_ appealing to him.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and placed a hand over her middle. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I was being stupid. I'm actually really happy about this," he promised as he kissed the side of her head.

###

Eugene pulled the carton of orange juice from the tempered glass shelf before closing the door to his side-by-side refrigerator. He smiled broadly as he looked at the black and white picture affixed to the fridge next to a yellowing strip of paper, a fortune cookie that read, "_You're where you're meant to be._" The fortune had come with their takeout order when Rapunzel had first moved into his apartment and she had taped it to the door of the fridge. Five years later and the statement still held true. Not only that, but there was now a black and white picture of an ultrasound beside it to prove it.

He poured some of the orange juice into a tumbler on the kitchen counter, filling the glass half way before reaching for the seltzer water so he could top it off with that. Rapunzel had been tossing her cookies all the time now; they'd learned that morning sickness was a misnomer and that it should be called morning-day-and-night sickness. They'd also learned that if he watered down her orange juice, and she was drinking gallons of it these days, that she was able to keep it down better.

He glanced back at the refrigerator door. The rectangular piece of paper had been in their apartment for less than twenty-four hours and he couldn't stop looking at it. He felt beckoned by it like a bug to a lantern. Last night, he'd even gotten out of bed on the rouse that he was going to get a drink of water just so he could stare at it for a good twenty minutes, smiling to himself like an idiot.

He knew she was expecting, of course. He'd been there a few weeks ago when she'd used one of those home testing kits and when she took the other three tests that came in the box just to make sure. He had been present when her doctor confirmed the results with a blood test. But now he had photographic evidence of this blessed event and he was beside himself.

The facts that were written in unassuming white, block letters on the front of this wondrous piece of paper were astounding to him. It listed rudimentary information like the name of the facility where it was taken, Corona Medical Center, yesterday's date, and some random numbers and letters and medical gobbledygook, but it also listed her name, "Fitzherbert, Rapunzel" and "8 weeks," two phrases that were miracles in and of themselves. The black and white image was fuzzy and its subject looked like a jellybean tied to a string. That had been the first thought that popped into his head when he saw it for the first time on the technician's monitor and that's how he began to refer to it: a jellybean. A jellybean who would completely turn his world upside down at his or her debut; a jellybean who already consumed his every waking thought and most of his dreams.

###

They were both sitting down in the headmistress' office with Eugene fidgeting uncomfortably in his plastic, traffic cone orange seat. He knew the old headmaster had retired a _long_ time ago, but was still anxious; he had never liked this room. The secretary, an older, plump woman with flaming red hair, had ushered them in and after offering them coffee and water, respectively, she left them alone while she went to go fetch the headmistress.

Rapunzel placed a hand on his knee in an attempt to still it. He hadn't noticed that he had been bouncing it nervously until she did so. He had worn a button down shirt and had purposely failed to roll up the sleeves midway up his forearms like he normally did, concealing all his ink under the fabric.

"Are you alright?" She leaned in and whispered as if the walls had ears.

"_Sorry_. I just don't like this room. Whenever I was in here, it meant I was in trouble, and I was in here a lot." He whispered back.

She covered her mouth demurely trying to suppress a girlish giggle.

"It's all right, Eugene. No one's going to put you in the corner." She tried assuring him, using the hand that wasn't resting on his knee to rub his back.

"I wouldn't mind being bad if _you_ put me in the corner." He grinned at her wolfishly.

"_Eugene_!" she halfheartedly chastised him. It only widened his grin. Even now, after sharing his bed for half a decade and even in her condition, he could still make her blush.

A voice behind them cleared its throat and they both jumped up in their seats like a pair of naughty school children who'd been caught passing notes to each other or making out behind the bleachers in gym class.

They stood up in unison to greet the woman who was standing by the door. She was almost as tall as Eugene and was bone thin with a stern face perfectly suited for intimidating children and most adults. She had a pallid complexion and wore her hair in a closely-cropped bob; its bluish-black color was at odds with her age. She looked about fifty and the severeness of her features made Eugene almost long for the old, tubby headmaster.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fitzherbert." She greeted both of them with a firm, businesslike handshake. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you after speaking with you on the phone."

As she spoke, her penetrating dark eyes darted down disapprovingly to Rapunzel's stomach, a move that wasn't lost on either of them. It made Rapunzel close the front of her navy blue pea coat and wrap her arms protectively around her middle and it made Eugene's hands ball up on either side of him. She was now ten weeks along and she was already starting to show. It was just that she was so thin and so small in stature that there was nowhere else for her growing abdomen to go but out.

"Please, sit down," the woman gestured for them to return to their seats as she took her own seat at her desk maintaining her rigid posture. There were neat stacks of paper on the well-worn particle board surface arranged with such precision that it looked like someone had measured the distances between the stacks with a ruler. She picked up a perfectly neat stack and, despite placing it back in the exact same spot she'd found it, scowled in dissatisfaction. Eugene was beginning to feel sorry for her secretary.

She punched in a few letters on her keyboard, before putting on her reading glasses to look at the monitor. Her long, thin manicured fingers made a clickety-clack sound against the keyboard which unnerved Eugene.

"Ah yes. I thought the name sounded familiar." she muttered to herself before pressing a single red fingernail on the intercom button.

"Yes?" answered the staticky voice on the other end.

"Could you bring me the Fitzherbert file, please?"

Several minutes later, Eugene and Rapunzel's jaws simultaneously dropped when the secretary came in pulling a creaky old aluminum cart, carrying two dusty, water-damaged bankers boxes stacked on top of each other. Each box looked like it was filled to the brim with overstuffed file folders.

The whole scenario was absurd. They had only made their appointment last week, there was no way they could've amassed this much information on prospective parents. They were an orphanage that operated on a shoestring budget; they weren't the national intelligence security agency.

"There was a flood a few years ago in the basement. These are what we have left of them." The old secretary explained apologetically. The stern woman at the desk turned her attention to the astonished young couple in front of her.

"These are _your_ files Mr. Fitzherbert." She announced as if she could read the question on both their minds.

"_Mine_?" Eugene asked, his throat suddenly going dry.

"Oh yes. As a distinguished alumnus of this institution, you certainly left your mark all over the place. The ceiling in the girls' bathroom still has a dent in it from the time you set off those firecrackers. Your exploits here were -"

"Legendary?" He supplied, poorly masking the pride in his voice.

"Well documented." She corrected, clearly displeased with him and unimpressed by his lengthy and detailed record of youthful indiscretion. "Now, putting aside the red flags of your past, why are you here, really?"

"What do you mean, why are we here? We told you why when we made the appointment." Eugene could feel his anger rising, but he could ill afford to blow a gasket; this woman held the key to what they really wanted. On the surface he appeared calm and collected even though he was dying to push every one of those stupid, neat little stacks of paper off that infuriating woman's desk.

"I'm not going to mince words, Mr. Fitzherbert. I just don't understand why someone with your _background_ would even be thinking of adopting a baby. Not only that, but your wife is so obviously expecting. This isn't a pet shop, you can't just return them if they become too much of a hassle for you." The woman took off her reading glasses and placed them on the blotting pad in front of her so she could lean forward and stare him straight in the eyes. "And if you're here to make a deposit. Well you can forget it, buster. I'm afraid we don't have room for one more."

Rapunzel wrapped her arms around her middle again possessively as if that horrid woman was going to take her baby away from her. But Eugene didn't back down. He met her gaze and held it.

He knew what he was up against. He and Rapunzel had met with the lawyer they had retained for the adoption process that morning. He knew that legally the headmistress couldn't deny them a child. They were both healthy, emotionally stable adults who could easily afford the financial obligations of providing for a second child, but the headmistress sure as hell could delay the process if he pissed her off.

"We're not looking to adopt a _baby._" He corrected, mindful to not grit his teeth. "We want to adopt an older child."

"Fine." The woman remarked as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She could see she wasn't getting through to Eugene so she directed her attention to Rapunzel.

"You know Mrs. Fitzherbert, you're going to have your hands full before you realize it. How will you manage that all on your own?" She tried to sound sympathetic, but it was like swimming against the current, she couldn't quite pull it off convincingly.

"She's not going to do it on her own. She has me. _I'm_ going to help her." He snapped.

Rapunzel must've realized Eugene was losing it, because she put a hand on his knee and began running interference. "What my husband is trying to say, is that we've talked about this for a long time and we've decided that this is how we want to grow our family." She stroked his leg soothingly and continued, "I understand your concern for the children of this orphanage and I admire you for doing your job. You should be exacting of every prospective parent because these children need your protection. I get where you're coming from. You want to weed out people who, despite their best intentions, are not really serious or ready for the lifetime commitment of adopting a child. But I can assure you, that's not us. This wasn't a rash decision on our part. We weren't expecting _this_," she gestured to her burgeoning midsection, "for another couple of years, but we decided long ago that we wanted to adopt and we wanted our adoptive child to be a part of our family from the very beginning. So if this seems a little crazy, a bit rushed to you, it's because we're running ahead of schedule. Our decision to adopt a child was not made on a whim and it isn't something we would ever take lightly."

"Very well then," the woman sighed defeatedly. "I'll send a social worker to inspect your house next week, but that's as far as I'm willing to take the process at the moment, I think it's prudent for everyone involved that we wait until your biological child is born. You can revisit your desire to adopt then." She concluded in a way that clearly communicated to them that this discussion was over for now.

She got up from her desk and escorted them to the reception area of the office.

As they followed the headmistress out of her office, Eugene and Rapunzel caught sight of a small, russet haired boy. The boy didn't even look up when the adults walked into the room. He merely sat there dejected, staring down at his own grubby fingers resting on his lap. Eugene recognized the boy's body language for what it was. This was a child who had given up all hopes of being adopted and no longer looked at visitors to the orphanage with a hopeful gleam in his eye; he no longer looked at adults as new parents. The former Flynn Rider knew from personal experience; he'd been that boy.

"I'll be right with you James." the headmistress called over her shoulder to the boy in a familiar tone that suggested that he was frequently sent to her office.

"Yes, ma'am." He answered politely in a quiet voice without looking up. The boy was now studying his small knuckles and Eugene noticed that they were scraped. He was wearing the uniform of the orphanage, a white button down shirt, faded navy blue slacks and a pair of hand-me-down black canvas slip-ons that looked like he had just come in from a dust storm.

While the headmistress was instructing her secretary to schedule a social worker's visit to the Fitzherberts' residence for the following week, the young married couple looked at each other and nodded in unison, silently hatching a clandestine plan.

"Is next Thursday alright with you dear?" The secretary gently inquired of Rapunzel as the headmistress turned on her heel and was walking toward the small boy.

"Wait!" Rapunzel called out to the headmistress who was already heading back to her office with a downtrodden looking James following closely behind her.

"I'd like a tour of the orphanage now."

The headmistress let out an exasperated gasp. "Very well then, you two follow me. James just wait for me here until I get back."

The boy shrugged and quietly sat back down in the seat he had just vacated, not bothering to look up at the unfamiliar young couple.

"You know what, I don't need a tour. I'm sure the old place hasn't changed much since I was here. You two go on ahead without me. I think I'll just stay back."

The headmistress rolled her eyes at Eugene, but Rapunzel winked at her husband and smiled broadly as she cheerfully followed the headmistress out of the office.

Eugene waited until the fussbudget was out of sight before he took a seat near the small boy who still hadn't acknowledged his presence.

"That's a mean looking scrape you get there." He pointed to the torn pant fabric over the boy's left knee.

"Yeah, I got it in a fight." He grinned to himself proudly before adding, "You should've seen the other kid. He pushed me onto the floor, but I got him back."

And then, as if he'd had a change of heart and was beginning to feel the first inklings of guilt, as if he didn't want this stranger to think he was a bad person, he added: "He deserved it you know."

"_Oh_? How so?"

"He called me a bad word. He called me a, he called me a -" His eyes welled up as if he couldn't say the word because saying it was too painful, because maybe it was the truth.

"That's alright, you don't have to repeat -" Eugene didn't want to put the kid on the spot, so he pretended he'd lost interest in the story.

"He called me a bastard!" James spat the word out as he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his uniform.

"Do you know what that word means?" He ventured to ask.

"Yeah. It means I don't have a dad."

"Something like that." He wasn't about to discuss the subtle nuances of human relationships with a kid, especially when he had only figured it out himself when he met Rapunzel. "That's nothing to be ashamed of." He added casually even though he secretly wished he could shove that other kid's head in the toilet.

"Really?" James sounded perplexed as he looked up at the stranger beside him for the first time. Eugene noticed that his eyes were green. They weren't the vibrant, emerald green eyes Rapunzel had. They were a paler, muted color. He also noted that the boy had a light dusting of freckles on his nose.

"Sure. Lots of kids in here are _that_. How do think they fill up the orphanage? Besides, there are worse things in life than not having a dad. You could be a leper. Then your nose would fall off." Eugene made a face which suggested that losing his nose was just about the worst thing he could think of. Then he shrugged the thought off as if it were resting heavily on his shoulder. Having mentally assured himself that there had been no reported cases of leprosy in Corona in at least a millennia, he relaxed, folding his hands behind his head and stretching his long legs out in front of him before crossing them at the ankles.

"_Huh_, I guess I never thought about it like that before." The boy grinned broadly at the unfamiliar man, revealing missing upper and lower lateral incisors.

Eugene noticed the secretary looking up from her paperwork and smiling kindly at the two of them.

He talked to James for a good half hour until he heard that harridan's voice coming down the hall.

"Well, I gotta split. Don't let those kids get to you. And if they give you any more trouble, give me a call." He said as he slipped the kid his business card.

James' eyes lit up as he read the card. "_Wait_. You're Flynn Rider _and _you're a_ tattoo artist_?!"

"Yup." Eugene responded unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "I go by Eugene now, but you can call me either." He quickly amended. It was funny how long it had taken him to reveal this simple fact to Rapunzel when he'd first met her and now, it just rolled off his tongue. He'd had issues back then and while they didn't magically disappear, she had helped him work through them.

He pushed the sleeve of his shirt up his forearm to reveal a flash of inked skin before quickly pulling it down and buttoning the cuff as if he were hiding contraband and trying to avoid getting caught by the headmistress.

"Whoa!" James gasped awe. His mind had officially been blown.

He couldn't tell what had impressed the kid more: his name or his job title. He'd gone by that alias in his last years at the orphanage, before he ran away. They had also been some of his more turbulent years; those fat files currently sitting in the headmistress' office could attest to that. He'd made a lasting impression on the place and he wasn't surprised that James had recognized the name - it was probably still scrawled along a few walls in rudimentary graffiti artist's print; he'd become an urban legend. But he also had to admit his profession was pretty well regarded among the youngsters. He suspected it was because most stuffy adults found it distasteful.

"Mrs. Fitzherbert, _really_! I don't think it's necessary for you to inspect the utility closet. I didn't think it was necessary the first time I showed it to you. I assure you nothing has changed since we left it. Now, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to stall."

Eugene gave James a quick goodbye nod as he got to his feet to meet up with his wife in the hallway just outside the office. The look he gave her was nothing short of adoration. He was grateful to her for distracting the old battle axe and providing him with an opportunity to talk to James. He could tell from the look on _her_ face that it hadn't been easy and she couldn't have held her off for much longer. The woman marched past both of them in a huff and headed back into the office.

* * *

**AN1:** So it turns out I know less about pregnancy than I did about tattoos/piercings (and I thought I needed the brain bleach when I was researching **Inked**). So far I've learned that growing another person inside you is the stuff of science fiction fodder.

**AN2:** Thank you **Wolfram-and-Hart-Sauron** for betaing **Disclosure**. And thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, faved, and followed the story so far. I haven't forgotten about you and I already have bits of chapter 3 written, so please continue with the story.

**AN3:** For those of you who are interested, I posted another Inked!drabble. It's called **Movie Night **and you will find it in chapter 15 of **Inked** in my profile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Eugene stared distractedly at his pretty wife as she recounted the ploys she had used earlier in the day to stall the headmistress and buy him more time at the orphanage. Occasionally, her lips would toy with the red and white drinking straw in front of her as she took small sips of mineral water and he found himself unable to focus on anything else. Carbonated beverages were her new favorite thing due in no small part to the fact that the bubbles helped settle her lately mercurial stomach. He noticed, not for the first time since he'd started counting the passage of time in weeks, instead of days or months the way he used to, that she was practically glowing. It was like she'd swallowed a light bulb and now her skin, her eyes, her hair all seemed to be illuminated from within. She'd always been beautiful, but now that she was dutifully and carefully carrying his child, the word radiant came to his mind.

He'd heard that about women in her condition, but he'd never actually noticed it before. His friend Garnet had four daughters and he didn't recall her glowing with any of them. As a matter of course, he didn't come across such women. When he'd been _unattached_ - which seemed another time, another place, another lifetime ago - he'd met women mostly in bars and occasionally at work before he wised-up and realized what a terrible, terrible idea it was to mix business with pleasure. It was unlikely that either of those places would be knowingly frequented by women in Rapunzel's state. And even if they were, he'd never been the kind of guy who was attracted to that sort of thing. He had his own predilections, of course, but that had never been one of them. Yet, here he was, itching for the waiter to bring the check even though he'd only just brought their drinks and they hadn't ordered their food yet. As always, she was the exception to whatever hard and fast rules he thought applied to his life.

The meeting with the headmistress had been shorter than they both had expected. They had planned on spending the afternoon at the orphanage, touring the place and maybe meeting some of the children who lived there. Instead, they'd been rushed out of there as unsuitable parental material all because Eugene might've set off a couple of smoke detectors in his youth. And so they found themselves with a rare, unencumbered afternoon before Eugene had to report to work.

He'd been arriving at the parlor early these days just so he could keep up with the influx of clients. He found that if he took care of the walk-ins and the newbies before his shift officially started, he had more time to concentrate on the collectors who always booked appointments and demanded more intricate pieces. It was fall now and he'd expected the summer crowds that usually lined the outside of his parlor to thin out now that there was a chill in the air and Corona's tourism season was over. He kept waiting for that lull. Each year it came later and later in the calendar and this year he didn't see any signs of letting up. He was grateful for the work, of course, it meant he could live out his dream and do what he loved, but it also meant that there were never enough hours in the day and he always felt like he was spreading himself too thin. The idea of taking a long overdue vacation was so preposterous, he found it almost humorous. But, if he wasn't taking time off, it meant Rapunzel wasn't either, and that thought made him uncomfortable.

Unlike Eugene, Rapunzel had no set work schedule and could paint from their upstairs apartment if she wanted to, except she always chose to come to work with him. She didn't like being left alone and loved interacting with the customers every night. She got along well with the staff, especially Fiona, Eugene's offbeat and sometimes cagey receptionist and Eugene's former apprentices who'd stayed on after their apprenticeship was over. His former apprentices lacked any ambition outside of having a good time after work every night and Eugene was glad to have the extra help to shoulder the heavy workload.

She still painted out of the cramped little closet he'd converted into a makeshift studio, much the same way she'd done at the beginning of their relationship when he had taken her in, except now she had a fine arts diploma that hung on the back wall of her tiny workspace. She was a freelance artist who worked on mostly her own projects. She displayed some of her pieces at the parlor, but most of her work was exhibited and sold at the local galleries.

"What's he like?" She asked when she'd finished telling him her story. As she spoke, the waiter dropped off a basket of rolls at their table and Eugene nabbed the top roll. He discovered it was some sort of onion loaf as he pulled it apart with his fingers. He slathered it with butter and offered it to her. Rapunzel made a face that suggested she didn't quite trust herself to keep it down. She rummage through the batch until she found a plain, water roll which she quickly bit into before her treacherous stomach could turn on her.

"He's a nice kid," he said when he finished chewing and swallowing the onion roll she'd rejected. "I think you'd like him."

That last part was unnecessary. He couldn't imagine Rapunzel not liking a kid or vice versa. She was great with children. They seemed to gravitate towards her, even the four redheaded hellions that loved to braid her short hair.

###

As happened more and more often, he closed the parlor late. His final appointment of the night had changed his mind at the last minute and asked for full sleeves instead of the quarter sleeves they had talked about. It was well after midnight before he and Rapunzel walked upstairs together with tired footsteps.

Still, as they crossed the threshold of his front door he forgot all about how tired he was just moments earlier and felt renewed vigor at finally having brought her home. The waiter had taken far too long bringing their meal, after all, and they'd had to go straight to the parlor instead of stopping at home like he'd wanted.

He knew that if he had any chance of getting close to his wife, he'd have to scrub himself clean first. The lingering scent of the disposable latex gloves he worked with and the scant scent of ink made her nauseous. Her heightened sense of smell meant that he had to switch to fragrance-free soap and shampoo and skip the shaving cream all together if he wanted to get within ten feet of her. Her nose was keener than a bloodhound's these days, or a truffle pig as she disparagingly referred to herself.

He'd learned from experience that he needed to wash himself thorough and as quickly as possible, but despite his impressive efforts of speed and efficiency she was already asleep when he got out of the shower.

###

Eugene woke up to an empty half of the bed. Last night, he'd been disappointed to find that his wife had fallen asleep and he had every intention of making up for lost time this morning, except he'd forgotten that today was Thursday and Thursday morning meant prenatal yoga. There may have been some pouting and whining on his part, but no one was there to witness it.

It was much too early for his liking and he knew Rapunzel wouldn't be home for at least another hour, so he rolled over and fell back asleep. Or at least he tried to. He was just about to fall into a deep and much needed slumber when he heard someone banging on the front door and calling out his name.

He recognized the unpleasant, nasally timbre and tried to ignore it. Maybe he'd think no one was home and just go away. It was much too early to be awake. It soon became evident that his unwanted visitor wasn't going to take the hint. Eugene groaned as he picked up an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants off the floor and proceeded to the door to put an end to that incessant knocking.

"What?" he grunted.

"Morning neighbor!" said the ugliest man he knew.

Eugene raised a thick eyebrow, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to borrow some sugar."

Eugene looked at his wristwatch, "It's eight in the morning!"

"Attila's got a customer coming by to pick up three dozen cupcakes in a couple of hours."

"And he's just starting now?"

"He just remembered." the homely man chuckled.

Eugene rolled his eyes. No matter how many crazy hobbies the pub thugs had, there wasn't a lick of business acumen among them.

It was too late to get rid of him, so Eugene stepped aside and let Big Nose into the apartment. He yawned and scratched the back of his sleep-disheveled hair as he followed Big Nose into kitchen. The sooner he got what he came for, the sooner Eugene could go back to sleep and then maybe Rapunzel would come home and wake him up. He smirked at his less than pure thoughts.

He wasn't sure where Rapunzel kept the sugar, so he started looking through the cupboards, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders in the process of trying to loosen the stiffness in his joints. He'd worked a long shift last night and his body was still complaining about it this morning.

While Eugene had his back turned away from the unsightly ruffian, he heard the man muttering.

"Awww, well isn't that sweet?" the thug said to himself.

"Huh?" Eugene turned around to see Big Nose reading a note he must've pick up off the counter. "Give me that!" he snapped.

As he took a step and tried to reach for the note with his free hand, he noticed that the hand that had been searching the cupboard was stuck. The metal buckle of his wristwatch had gotten caught on something. Momentarily forgetting about the note and the nosy thug, he yanked his hand vigorously, only to realize too late that that "something" was a sack of flour which he'd inadvertently set into motion. Eugene watched helplessly as the object in question flew out of the cupboard and landed hard on the kitchen counter. The force of the impact caused it to crack open like a piñata, spewing its contents all over the counter and bathing Eugene and Big Nose in a cloud of white powder in the process.

Eugene was too busy coughing to yell at Big Nose. He had every intention of chiding the aptly named thug for sticking his big nose in other people's business just as soon when he recovered from his coughing fit, except someone was at the door again.

"I'll get it." said Big Nose, in between coughs. "It's probably Attila wondering what's taking so long."

As Big Nose tended to the door, Eugene picked up the note, shaking the flour off of it so he could read it.

_"Good morning Eugene! You looked so sweet curled up in bed, I didn't have the heart to wake you up._

_I'm meeting Garnet at her boutique after class. She has a new shipment of maternity clothes she'd like to show me. I think I've grown since last time. Maybe I'll be able to wear them now. There's pancakes and an omelet in the fridge in case you get hungry. I'll probably grab lunch with Garnet at Tony's. I'll be home after that._

_Love, Rapunzel."_

Eugene groaned. It was even worse than he'd thought. She wasn't going to be home anytime soon. Just then, he noticed the postscript.

_"PS - Make sure Pascal doesn't eat all the fruit in the bowl. It'll make him sick. The vet says we need to start keeping a food log."_

Eugene glanced at the empty fruit bowl on the window ledge behind the sink only to see an overstuffed frog passed out at the bottom of the bowl. _Well that ship has sailed_, he thought wryly as he raised a disapproving eyebrow at the engorged subject matter of the postscript. It wasn't the first time Pascal had put himself in a food coma and he had the vet bills to prove it. There was nothing he could do about it now except wait for the lizard to spew it all up. _Great_. He had that to look forward to after he finished cleaning up all this flour.

Eugene frowned when he heard Big Nose talking to a woman. He didn't recognize her voice and he frowned harder when he heard what she was saying.

"- And you must be Mr. Fitzherbert." the woman said to Big Nose.

"_No_. He most certainly is not." Eugene interjected quickly as he made his way to the living room. It was one thing to get his nose wrong, but to confuse his entire face for someone who sported a mug only a mother could love was too grave an insult not to correct immediately.

". . . Uh." The woman stammered as she took in the sight of him. Eugene was used to getting appreciative stares from women, especially women who were seeing him for the first time, but something about her expression seemed off. Looking over at Big Nose, he suddenly remembered they were both covered in flour.

He tried dusting the flour out of hair, but it was no use. He was only making it worse. The white powder was all over his person and now he was getting it in the living room too.

"_Oh_, this?" He gestured to himself and Big Nose. "I can explain this."

Except that explanation he'd promised her wasn't forming in his head fast enough. Even worse, his mouth had remained open like he was going to say something, like he was some sort of gaping idiot.

The woman took it upon herself to break the awkward silence. "I'm Annabeth. The orphanage sent me."

That was when Eugene noticed she had a clipboard in her hand. He shook the woman's hand, still confused as to what she was doing here. He'd just been shooed out of the place yesterday.

"By the way, there's an old man passed out on the steps at the bottom of your staircase." She pointed over her shoulder to the open door. "He's wearing a diaper and a pair of paper wings. Do you two know him?"

"Yes."

"No."

Big Nose and Eugene answered in unison, contradicting each other. Eugene grimaced, he had to get rid of the oaf.

"Well. Thanks the demonstration, but I'm really not in the market to buy a new vacuum cleaner." He said to a confused Big Nose now that his brain was working again and he'd finally come up with a belated excuse for the flour.

"Huh? What about the sugar?" Big Nose said as Eugene closed the door on his face.

Feeling an uncharacteristic pang of guilt towards the ugly dolt, he told the lady from the orphanage that he'd be right with her and left her standing in the living room while he ran to the kitchen to finish rummaging through the cupboard whose door was still hanging open. He then rushed back to the front door and handed over a five pound bag of sugar to the thug who was still standing in the very spot he'd left him.

"Thank -"

Eugene quickly closed the door on his face again, before he mistook this as an invitation to resume his unsolicited visit.

"Sorry about that." He said to the woman in front of him.

"As I was telling your fri -, er, that door-to-door salesman. I'm the social worker sent here by the orphanage."

"The social worker?" Eugene scratched the back of his head. He vaguely remembered the headmistress' secretary mentioning something about scheduling a social worker's visit.

"Yes, I was told you and your wife were available for an in-home visit today, Thursday." The woman put the clipboard under her arm and began fumbling through her purse. She fished a datebook out of it and thumbed through it.

When she found what she was looking for she quickly closed it and turned bright pink.

"Oh dear. Not again," she said apologetically. "Looks like I got my dates mixed up. Our visit is for next Thursday, isn't it? I'm really sorry about this. But, do you think we could do it now since I'm already here?"

"Uh, sure." he responded. It's not like he could say "no" to her when she was practically pleading with him. He had no choice but to agree to the visit even though there was a wino asleep on the bottom of his staircase, his wife wasn't here, the kitchen looked like the scene of a snowstorm, and he hadn't even showered yet and was wearing clothes he'd picked up off the floor this morning. Not that that last part mattered much because even if he had been wearing clean clothes, they would have still been covered in white powder.

"Thanks. They don't really like it when I get the days wrong," she explained. The way she said this made Eugene think this wasn't a rare occurrence.

He gave her a tour of the place as he answered her questions and she jotted down notes on her clip board in a way that made him very nervous, like she was writing way more than the responses he was giving her.

They finished the interview in the kitchen. He'd purposely left this room for last.

He watched in silent horror as she'd tried to put her purse down on the kitchen counter at one point, but being unable to find any surface area that wasn't covered in flour, she flung the strap back over her shoulder.

"I noticed that there is only one bedroom." she commented.

"Uh, yeah." he responded lamely.

A baby wouldn't need a nursery, not right away. At least that's what he'd gathered from the baby and parenting books that had now been added to his reading material. But his one bedroom apartment wasn't ideal for an eight-year-old boy.

"Is that a pullout couch?" She said as she gestured to the shabby piece of duct-taped upholstery that was kept in the living room more out of fondness than esthetics or functionality.

"No."

"And there's only one shower and that's inside you and your wife's bedroom?"

"Yup." Despite his one word response, Annabeth scribbled down two paragraphs and was starting to write on the margins, because she'd run out of space.

"What's your work schedule lik -"

She stopped mid-sentence when something behind Eugene caught her eye. "What a beautiful fruit bowl!"

"Thanks. My wife painted it." Eugene smiled nervously, hoping Annabeth would stay put on her side of the counter. But just as he was thinking that, she walked over towards the sink to get a better look.

"Ahhh!" The woman screamed. "How long has that thing been dead in there?"

"Oh him? He's not dead." Eugene walked over and poked the lizard just to make sure. "He's sleeping."

Admittedly, Pascal had seen better days. But he always turned that puke green color when he ate himself into oblivion. Annabeth frowned. He was screwing this up, he could tell. It was obvious to anyone this wasn't going well. Having a bloated frog in a food container meant to hold fruit, didn't bode well no matter how pretty said container was. And though she'd been polite not to mention it, he knew there was no chance in hell she hadn't noticed his tattoo parlor downstairs or the rough-looking pub next door.

"Well, that's all the questions I have." She said as she gripped her clipboard against her chest and walked a little too fast to the front door.

"Wait." He said as he caught up to her and spun her around, before she could make a quick exit. "This place is just temporary. We've got our eye on a great house. In a nice neighborhood. Great school district, real kid friendly stuff."

This wasn't even remotely true, but Eugene was a practiced liar. At least he used to be. It had been a while and his skills were rusty, but Annabeth seemed to buy it. "Just give us a couple of months to finish the closing and we'll have everything squared away."

Eugene hoped he'd given himself enough time. They'd hated the few houses they had halfheartedly looked at with their realtor. Neither he, nor Rapunzel liked the idea of moving out of their apartment. Sure it was small, but it was decidedly less shabby after she had moved in and they had five very happy years together here. Neither one of them was eager to let that go.

He sighed as he walked Annabeth out onto the second flood landing and leaned against the rails as he watched her descend the concrete staircase, cringing when she sidestepped Shorty who was still snoozing. Having kids meant making sacrifices and as much as he loved it here, this was no place to start a family. He needed to find a new place; he just hoped a couple of months was enough time to get his act together.

###

Rapunzel was hemming and hawing. Eugene could tell she was nervous because she kept shifting her weight and tucking her short strands of hair behind her ears.

He tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He knew this was important to her; but really, he didn't see what the big deal was.

She kept interrupting herself and after several failed attempts she still couldn't quite say it. Not that it mattered. Eugene didn't think he'd understand anyway. Rapunzel cleared her throat and started in again.

"You see, Pascal. When two people love each other, sometimes, if they're really lucky -I guess what I'm trying to say is that - Well, you're going to be a big brother."

She finally blurted it out. Eugene's eyebrows shot up when he heard those last two words, though really, he should've seen it coming. This was bonkers. Pascal couldn't be a big brother any more than he could be a monkey's uncle. But with Rapunzel, he found it was sometimes easier just to go along with her view of the world. She certainly had a unique way of looking at things. She made life interesting, she made _his_ _life_ interesting and it was one of the many reasons he was head-over-heels in love with her.

###

Fiona, Eugene's receptionist, was tapping her foot and leaning against the door jamb. It wasn't like her to interrupt him while he was working on a client, but seeing as this particular client was Vlad, her boyfriend, he wasn't all that surprised when she peered in.

"Flynn, there's someone here to see you." she said.

Eugene cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at the clock on the wall, his plastic wristwatch was being obscured by the thick black latex gloves he wore while he worked. He hadn't scheduled any more clients after Vlad. Walk-ins were a given for an artist as well-known as he was, but Fiona usually kicked them out when they came in this late.

"Fi, tell him to come back tomorrow. I'll squeeze him in first thing." He said this not looking up at her as he'd resumed inking the outline of yet another unicorn on Vlad's broad back.

"Um." The woman with violent pink hair hesitated for a moment. "I think you should probably tell him yourself."

Eugene looked up at her and the pointed look she was shooting back at him told him he'd better attend to this person. Resignedly, he put down his tattoo machine on the metal tray and threw out his gloves in the step-open trashcan beside him. He'd have to put on a fresh pair when he got back.

"Don't worry. Rapunzel's in her office. She doesn't know yet." She said as he walked past her and into the hallway.

"Huh?" Fiona's words made no sense to Eugene until he got to the front waiting area and saw a small boy sitting on the black leather couch clutching one of his business cards.

Fiona whispered behind his ear as she finally caught up to Eugene's quick footsteps, "Is he . . . _yours_?"

She wasn't the type to get into other people's business, but he guessed this was too much for even her to ignore.

What?! _No_!" Eugene scoffed as if the very idea of some kid he'd fathered but never met was preposterous. He'd grown up in an orphanage crowded with the byproducts of one night stands, he sure as hell wasn't going to contribute to that unhappy population. His reputation with the ladies had been well-earned, but he always, always made sure to take precautions. Of course, the sole exception to this rule was busy working in her studio in the back of the parlor, but even then he had waited until they were married before he'd slipped up.

Fiona rolled her eyes at his tone. "I just figured, all those years, all those women. I mean, I know you cleaned up your act once you met Rapunzel, but I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner."

* * *

**AN1:** Sorry I haven't updated this story sooner. I assure you it's not abandoned. In between updates, I've mapped out all the chapters and written some of the later scenes. It's just a matter of getting over my sporadic writer's block and getting some free time to fill in the gaps. Thanks to **Wolfram-and-Hart-Sauron** for still sticking with me and betaing this story even though it's taking me forever to write it. And thanks everyone who's been patiently waiting for an update. Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews. They mean a lot to me. Special thanks to **Mecaka** for posting that review and sending writing fairy dust my way. I think it helped me buckle down and finally finish this chapter.

**AN2:** I've named the OCs! This was something I purposely avoided in **Inked**, so much so that I even wrote **Splotches** (chapter 14) in the first person. But I think my luck's run out and I need to start naming names. Hope they're okay.

**AN3:** There's now **Inked** fan art! You can find links to them in my profile. I've also posted them on my tumblr. Thank you **Noa30** for the pretty pictures. I love them so much!


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